


Reward

by bookworm03



Series: Adult Relationships [5]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/pseuds/bookworm03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a break up comes with a reward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reward

**Author's Note:**

> AU - Post-college. Ben and Leslie have been best friends since high school and are secretly in love with each other. Cliche fun!. 
> 
> Part 5 in a series, can be read on its own, but I recommend going in order because, build-up, etc. :D
> 
> (Are you getting tired of hearing this yet?) You wonderful readers are amazing and all your comments totally make my day so please keep sharing your thoughts! Thank you so much for reading, much love, and I hope you enjoy this next instalment! :)
> 
> **Also, reminder for those of you reading the other parts, these aren't necessarily in sequence. :) **

“Tell me again,” it’s demanding but he doesn’t care. She giggles and lets him draw her in close, winding his arms across her shoulders. This is the only time she feels tiny, when she’s tucked into his embrace and his face is in her hair. The lights aren’t on in his kitchen, save for the blue glow from the oven clock. It smells like brownies she baked hours ago. He broke up with Shauna the day before and Leslie’d been at his door that very night, knowing Henry was going out of town. They’d gone for a walk in the park, spent the day in sweats marathoning Star Wars and she’d baked him break up brownies. 

“You’re my campaign manager and then my Chief of Staff and it’s decided and I don’t care what anybody says. City Counsellor, Mayor, Governor, Senator, President; you’re up.” 

“Pawnee City Counsellors get a Chief of Staff?” 

“Maybe. I’ll have one. You. Because you’re smart and amazing and no matter what the job is you will always be smart and amazing and when I’m sworn in I want you there beside me, even more than I want Ann Perkins there.”

“Wow, that’s a big honour.” 

 “I know. I’m glad you realize that.” 

He grins as she drifts into him and drops his forehead to hers like it’s a reflex. It kind of is, really. 

“When’s Henry back?” 

“Tomorrow night,” his hand slides into her hair, his other one’s on her waist and they’re swaying, dancing almost. He thumbs her earlobe. 

“Are you sad?” 

“Uh, I got amazing break up brownies and to watch Star Wars all day with you. I should break up with people more often.” 

She giggles and they’re closer than ever. So close their noses are brushing and all it would take would be a little tilt of her chin and their lips would be too. He can feel her breath on his face and it's fact she’d taste like chocolate. Are they drunk? He feels drunk. They cuddle often, but not like this, not in a way where every curve of her body is sealed around his and she’s breathing so deeply he can feel it in his toes. This isn’t playful and there’s no room for misinterpretation: this is romantic. 

“You never told me why, you know.” 

“Why what?” they’re still swaying. 

“Why you ended it.” 

“Uh,” his brain feels foggy, a swirling mix of shapes and colours, and what he says next is unfiltered. “She wasn’t the love of my life.” 

It’s an outburst like a cackle, but it’s not loud and bellowing; it’s softer, more intimate thanks to the lack of distance between them. Her fingers curl against his back and his skin electrifies at the contact. There’s a vein of urgency in her touch. It’s subtle, but it’s there; she wants him closer. 

“You were only dating six months. How could you possibly know that, Benjamin?” 

 “I already met the love of my life over a decade ago. Pretty sure if The Princess Bride has taught me anything it’s that you only get one of those,” he kisses the tip of her nose lightly as her cheeks rouge. 

“I love you too,” she whispers and instead of just holding her and clinging to the words he finds her eyes and…holy shit. He sees it, he swears he sees it. The longing, the desire, the…everything. Everything he’s felt since he was seventeen that he swore she never gave back is right there, in front of him. His breath hitches and her mouth shifts and if he’s talking percentages now the odds are at least forty-sixty in his favour. 

When their foreheads meet again, their noses align and her lips are right there, his for the taking and he’s doing it. It’s decided. Ben forces himself take three deep breaths. _Inhale_ \- good lord, does she have any idea how beautiful she is? _Exhale. Inhale_ \- when did she start looking at him like that? _Exhale. Inhale_ \- yeah, this is happening. _Exhale_ …and then… 

_…Brush._

That’s all it is. A brush of their lips with his nose pressed against her flushed cheek. Blink and you would’ve missed it. If it startles her or upsets her he can deny it happened, or laugh it off as an accident resulting from their close proximity, and then - 

_…Press._

She kisses back. Soft and gentle, but an actual kiss. Pressure and warmth and fingers still pushing ever-so slightly and then - 

He presses back too, hand tightening in her hair and that’s it, he’s done. She’s sighing his name and his tongue is pushing passed her lips while her hands grip his shirt and she pushes up on tip toes to get closer. She definitely tastes like chocolate and her hands are on his neck as nails bite into his skin and tongues tangle. He’s lost in her. Her taste, her smell, the sounds she’s making, the rustle of clothing, the fumbling to reach skin. Her hips are against his, and his cock is responding and he needs her now or he’ll die. He wants sex, but more than that he craves her undone with nothing between them… 

“I love you,” he pants. “I’m in love with you, I mean.” 

She grins into his kiss.

 “I got that much.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I’m in love with you too,” she promises. “I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it…fuck, I need you. I need you inside me.”

“Good lord,” his hands slip under her tank top and it ends up on the floor while he debates whether going to the bedroom is even worth it. He kisses her into a wall and slices at her pants, pushing them down and lifting her out of them. Her legs wrap around his hips and heels dig into his ass. The skin of her throat tastes both sweet and salty and he needs more. More of her. All of her. 

“Bed,” she rubs his neck and whimpers when his teeth flash. Leslie tugs on his earlobe, giggling around it when he groans. “Babe, let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah,” he babbles, almost tripping on his way to his door. She lands on the mattress with a bounce and more giggling. He crawls over her and settles his arms on either side, kissing slowly. She feels even smaller like this, the bottom of her foot brushing up his ass, her eyes are dark and her hands toying with his shirt. His feet stay on the ground to keep his weight off her, but she tugs insistently, wanting him against her, which kind of burns his brain. 

“I love you,” she repeats, stroking his cheek. 

“I love you too, so much - ” 

The vibrating phone startles him awake. Ben’s sweaty and breathless and oh god, not that dream again. That dream is the worst, it feels way too real and way too like them and it takes him forever for it click as not being reality. Why couldn’t there be a pink elephant in the corner watching them or something? Providing hilarious commentary? Why did it have to feel so…so much. 

He’d broken up with Shauna because of that dream. Three days ago after she roused him and told him he was talking in his sleep. Ben suspected he said “I love you” or something vaguely resembling it, because he could tell her cheeks were tinged pink, even in the moonlight.

It _felt_ like he’d said the words. Dream Ben had acknowledged the flick of Real Ben’s tongue, the press of his lips, the sound rising in his throat that seemed to do so beyond the expanse of his subconscious’s fantasy. She’d gone back to sleep without saying anything and Ben had snuck out to talk to Henry who, after hitting him repeatedly with a pillow for waking him, had told him Shauna was a nice person and he needed to stop stringing her along if he knew he was never going to feel like that.

So the next evening, he’d done it. Gently, in his car. She’d smiled and looked sad, but patted his hand, thanked him for being honest and kissed his cheek as she left. Shauna’s dainty and kisses the same way. Featherlight and barely-there unless they were actually making out or something. Never sloppy or wet against the kitchen counter just to say good morning. Careful, thoughtful, sweet. 

Which was why his subconscious had probably produced the recurring dream he’d been having over the last several weeks. The one that was all hands and mouths and clawing at skin to get closer. The one that had him waking up to a throbbing erection. And Leslie was in it because…ugh, because it had been a week since he’d last talked to her and he missed her like crazy, and probably because, on some level, he thought if they were to ever actually do that he felt like…

There would be nothing dainty about it. 

Ben checks his phone and sees it’s from Ann. That’s…odd. Ann isn’t much in the habit of randomly texting him, let alone in the middle of the night. White hot panic floods him as he processes this. It has to be about Leslie. Something has to be wrong or Ann wouldn’t have texted him now - 

_Danny broke up with her in the shower this morning._

What the fuck? 

He broke up with her _in the shower_? 

They’d been dating for four…five months now? Since just after he got together with Shauna. And he broke up with her in the shower. 

Good lord, he needs to call her. Stat. Now, or first thing in the morning and take her somewhere with alcohol, because who breaks up with someone in the shower? How much fucking decency did you need to know not to do that? Where the hell did she find these guys? The island for awful human beings? After the broken kneecap and the skywriting...why were her boyfriends literally the worst?

Henry will murder Ben if he wakes up him twice in one week, so instead he showers. A cold, very cold, shower where he jerks off arousal and a plethora of misplaced adrenaline. The droplets pierce his skin to the point it’s almost painful and it’s only when his breathing has normalized that he turns up the temperature and leans his forehead against the cool tiles. 

After his shower, he doesn’t go back to bed. He goes for a walk instead. It’s a mild but brisk night, the stars are bright in the inky black sky and he’s feeling very awake so he just goes. Passes the high school, meanders down his dad’s street, through Harvey James Park and ends up at Marlene’s. Which is weird, because he hasn’t been there in years. If anything he should’ve wandered over to Leslie’s street…

Wait, why was her light on? 

He texts her quickly and the answer is immediate, the pulling back of the blinds of her childhood bedroom and her big, surprised eyes obvious even from the distance. 

She’s gone just as quickly and he rubs his face, trying to quell the bubble of happiness filling inside him because they’re both supposed to be upset. Her front door opens and she comes flying out in pink fuzzy slippers and her hair in pigtails. He clearly has some weird internal honing mechanism that draws him to her, because there’s no reason he should be here, but here he is and here she is, like they were meant to find each other. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Honestly?” he drags his fingers along the side of his cheek. “I went for a walk and ended up here and saw your light. What are you doing here?” 

“My mom and Xander broke up and since…I also broke up…Danny broke up with me…this morning,” she sighs.

“I wish you’d called.” So much, he wished that. He wished she’d called him even if her voice was quivering and she just ended up crying in his ear. 

“Me too,” she breathes and he considers whether she means she wishes he’d called her or that she’d called him. Did it matter? Either way, hugging her comes next. Promising her it will be okay, asking if she wants to get drunk with him, cuddling up in one of their beds. That’s next. 

He draws her in without another word, arms over her shoulders just like they had been in the dream, and tucking her head under his chin. 

“Anyway,” she keeps talking as if it’s not muffled into his chest. “I came over to drink wine and watch Deliverance but we both ended up just talking…or she did, so we’re saving that for tomorrow… That’s her break up movie.” 

The words sink in and then he snorts. 

“ _Deliverance_ is your mother’s break up movie.”

She giggles and nods, tiling her head to see his face. “Yup.” 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“She finds it distracting.” 

“Oh god,” he presses his fingers to his forehead, one arm still securely around her. “I’m sorry I…it’s been a while since we talked.” 

“Six days, five hours and…twenty-one minutes,” she looks up from her watch. “Why?” 

“Why has it been a while?” 

“Why did you go for a walk in the middle of the night and end up here?” 

“I broke up with Shauna on Tuesday and then I had this…weird dream - ”

“What!? Why? She’s so sweet and nice and okay, her headlines probably need some work, but I can help her with that. You guys were so - ” 

“It’s just…I think she was feeling more than I was and that’s not…fair.” 

“Ben, I’m sorry,” she rubs his arm gently and he suddenly needs her closer, there’s too much cold air between them. He needs to feel her laugh echo through his ribs, he needs his face buried in blonde curls with the scent of coconut, and he needs her fingers pressing into his skin hard enough that he can still feel it days later. He needs her. Not Dream Leslie with her overt sexuality, and not Six-Days-Without-Talking Leslie, but just Leslie. Leslie without limits or constraints; Leslie without two other people literally or metaphorically sandwiched between them. He needs the Leslie who calls him first when some asshole dumps her because she vibrates on too high of a frequency for them to understand. 

“So,” he holds her shoulders. “If…since it’s break up week, can I come commiserate with you and your mother and…” he winces. “Watch Deliverance?” 

She snickers and he pulls her back into his arms and squeezes tightly. 

“He broke up with you in the shower?” 

Her arms have worked their way under his coat and her fingers curl against his t-shirt. 

“I know, he ruined sexy showers for me. I was getting the shampoo and he said ‘hey, listen, I think we need to talk. This isn’t really working anymore’. I was naked and wet and soapy, Ben. Who does that? And it was his shower, so I had to like…rinse off and my hair was all wet and when I got to work I still had soap in it and it was…oh god, it was awful. Tom didn’t stop laughing and Donna told me she knows a guy who could make him disappear, and Ron told me to go home and get myself together.” 

Ben pushes back to balk. “Good lord.”

 “How did you know?” 

“Ann.” 

“Oh,” she bites her lip. “Wait, are you talking to Ann and not me? That hurts.”

“It was a text to keep me informed, I guess. I got it like…an hour ago. And I’m very sorry. Six days without talking to you is forever,” he murmurs, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Never again.” 

He thinks of the plethora of break ups he’s had in his life, does a tally of the girls and realizes he doesn’t talk to any of them at all anymore. He mentally adds Shauna’s name to the list and then tries to picture Leslie’s on it. What if he did tell her how he felt and they started dating and then they broke up? They had some massive fight, or they stopped wanting the same things, or she started to have feelings for someone else a few years down the line? Then what? Then he just never talks to her anymore? She’s just another name? That would crush him. That would end him. 

“I agree,” she tightens her arms around him and he kisses her forehead. 

“I think I need some patented Leslie Knope cuddles.” 

“Kay. You should come inside then.” 

“Will you make me break up brownies?” 

“Uh huh. Tomorrow for The Princess Bride. After Deliverance.” 

She palms his cheek in that way that makes him feel like he could do no wrong, and the tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying seems to leech out of his muscles. 

Marlene’s there in a housecoat when they sneak into the house holding hands and he flashes back to high school very quickly.

“Hi Ben,” she drawls, sounding bored as usual. “How are things?” 

“Uh fine,” he let’s Leslie tug him towards her room. Marlene had never seemed freaked out about him spending the night in Leslie’s bed, even when they were sixteen. 

“Sorry we woke you. And…to hear about your…situation.” 

“Had to be done,” she shrugs casually and glances between them. “Will I see you in the morning?” 

“Yes, I’m making pancakes,” Leslie declares. “Break up pancakes for everyone. Ben just broke up with Shauna.” 

“You did,” Marlene’s studying him in that way the suggests she can read what’s on his mind. Like she knows he was just fantasizing about nailing her daughter against a wall and the real reason he broke up with Shauna. He shivers; this is definitely feeling like high school again. 

“And brownies,” Ben reminds Leslie gently, grinning and calling goodnight to Marlene as he gets tugged into Leslie’s room. 

It’s the same since high school, but with less photos and none of her quilts. He remembers her frustration with geometry and sprawling on her bed the night before the exam. She ate a whole bag of Red Vines as he tried to guide her through some of the problems. She called him a cocky, arrogant, smart ass when he kept pointing out her mistakes, and then kissed the corner of his mouth in the parking lot when she got an A. It was the first time she’d kissed him at all, actually. The spot on his skin had tingled all day, and his dad kept asking what the hell was wrong with him every time he brushed his fingers over it. 

Now, Ben takes off his jeans and flops on the bed and she plunks down beside him, settling on his arm. There’s no preamble, no discussion, they’ve undressed and crawled into bed together more times than he could count at this point. She takes what she wants and he does the same, he knows where the towels are for a shower in the morning, and she knows what t-shirts of his are the softest for sleeping and which ones he prefers for himself. 

Really, a break up shouldn’t feel this good, this soul satiating. Getting to hold her feels like some sort of reward for ending things with Shauna, which is probably what incentivizes him to end things with everyone. End a relationship, spend your day cuddling Leslie and eating brownies while she dotes on you. 

Some might call that fucked up… 

Which would be accurate, because it is. It’s totally fucked up. 

“Danny’s an asshole.” 

“I didn’t like him that much anyway,” she admits, pressing her nose to the crook of his neck. “And he wore too much cologne.” 

Ben holds his breath while she inhales and then murmurs contently. He closes his eyes and tries to remind himself she’s super touchy and affectionate with everyone and she wasn’t just breathing him in; there’s not some smell-memory centre in her brain that associates him with cathartic release. Leslie squirms onto her stomach and drapes over him. The arm across his belly finds his fingers and tangles them together. 

“Night,” he kisses her forehead. 

“Night.” 

***** 

“Was the sex bad?” 

Ben chokes on his coffee and stares very, very hard at Marlene Griggs-Knope. She’s never been one to mince words, but good lord. 

“With…Shauna?” 

“No, Leslie.” 

His tongue is swelling. He’s having an allergic reaction to this situation. Leslie’s in the kitchen finishing up the last batch of pancakes and Deliverance is cued in the VCR and Marlene, dressed tastefully in a cardigan and fresh makeup, is eyeing him like she probably does everyone on the School Board in meetings. 

“Am…I’m sorry, what?” 

“I’m trying to figure out why you two never dated each other. It’s perplexing, Ben. You seem smart and I thought you were a man of action.” 

“We-we’re friends. Good, great, best friends and it’s…that’s what…we are. In conclusion, we…we are best friends. Signed, Ben Wyatt.” 

Her eyes narrow even more; she’s definitely regretting calling him smart. 

“Are you not attracted to her?” 

“What?!” the blood drains from his head and the room goes out of focus. “Okay this, this conversation isn’t feeling appropriate,” God, how did he manage to even come up with that.

“I don’t…think we should talk about this…” 

“So the sex was bad between you and Leslie.” 

“MOM!” Leslie enters from the kitchen, looking horrified. Marlene gives a little laugh and a wave. “What the hell!” 

“I’m just curious, sweetheart!” 

“We’ve…we’ve never…Leslie and I have never…we’ve….we’ve never…we have not ever…” 

“Had sex,” Leslie finishes for him, cheeks rouging and speaking very quickly. “Ben and I have never had sex. Why would you think that?” 

Marlene’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“NO!” Both of them, in unison. 

“All those afternoons in Leslie’s room, all those weekends I went out of town and Ben stayed over, all those parties, all those visits in college and you’re telling me you never had sex?” 

“NO!” Again, in unison. Leslie’s quivering and Ben basically is too. They won’t look at each other but he’s fighting the urge to grab her hand just for the connection. 

“That’s…well, that’s curious.” 

“Did you want me having sex when I was supposed to be doing my homework?” 

“I’m just surprised in Ben.” 

_Why was she picking on him?!_

“Uh…I’m…”

“Okay, see, I brought in coffee and more pancakes. Yay! Pancakes!” Leslie sets her tray down. “Should we start the movie and stop talking and never mention this conversation again? Great. That sounds great. Let’s do that.” 

Leslie drowns her pancakes in maple syrup and tops her coffee off with about sixty percent of a can of whipped cream before plunking on the couch beside him. Marlene looks way too amused for Ben to be comfortable, resembling the Cheshire Cat with a subtle smirk and her hand waving ceremoniously from a wingback chair as she motions for Leslie to press play. 

Ben isn’t sure if she’s doing this to spite her mother or not, but once her pancakes are gone Leslie drapes her feet in his lap, wiggling her red toenails expectantly. He drums on her ankles, keeping his eyes on the screen before he starts pushing his fingers into different pressure points, delighting when she sighs. Marlene rolls her eyes when Ben glances at her and he catches Leslie half-smiling. Even with her mom there, getting to touch like this energizes him. 

After the movie Marlene declares she’s going for a walk, but with the look she gives Ben he’s pretty certain she expects them to start ripping each other’s clothes off as soon as the door closes. 

God, that woman was terrifying. 

“Are you staying for dinner? I know she’s fine, but I said I’d spend another night and…” 

“I’ll…yeah, as long as you want me.” 

“You can sleep in the guest room.” 

He smacks her foot and yanks her closer. She comes willing and squeals when he tackles her beneath him and nuzzles her neck. Leslie shrieks and he tickles her until she’s squirming, face smushed into a pillow. 

“I can sleep in the _guest room_? How am I supposed to cuddle you? It’s been six moooooonths not cuddling you. One night doesn't make up for that. You probably have new campaign speeches I haven’t heard yet.” 

“Uh, that’s not my fault,” she sighs when the tickling stops and settles on her side while he spoons her, back pressed to the cushions. They lie in silence for moment. 

“Sorry, my mom’s being…” 

“Your mom?” 

Her hand clasps his, holding them to her chest. 

“Is it bad I’m happy we can do this again?” 

“Mhmm, no, you’re a good cuddler. I missed this too.” 

His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

“You want me to beat him up?” Ugh, that sounds big-brotherish. 

She giggles and their fingers tangle. He kisses her cheek. 

“Dating sucks,” the statement is threaded with exhaustion and exasperation. 

“I concur. Let’s just get married.” 

She cackles and presses closer. He blows a raspberry on her neck and tickles her belly. 

“So that’s a no to my proposal?” 

Leslie rolls onto her back. “Well, for starters, I have big plans for me.” 

“I know that.” 

“So whoever marries me would really have to want to be a part of that.” 

“I’m gonna be a part of that anyway.” 

“And love me.” 

“I love you.” 

“Love me like…want to marry me, loves me.” 

Her eyes lock with his. 

“I love you,” he repeats, more insistently and hoping he’s conveying what he means. His hand reaches out to brush her cheek and he watches her breath hitch. 

“And they’d have to not break up with me in the shower.” 

Ben laughs softly, but his heart’s in his throat. The way her gaze is slanted, it feels like something’s happening, something that hasn’t happened in a while. Years, really. Since that night he went to visit her at IU…

She whispers his name and it brings him back to her eyes, her hands tugging on his hair. Leslie pulls until their forehead’s are pressed together and his stomach flutters so violently he might throw up. 

“You’re just doing it to prove to my mom you want to have sex with me because she thinks you’re a weirdo for not putting the moves on me.” 

“I am nooooooot, and your mom is way too invested in that.” 

“And I’m nice so I didn’t even tell her about that night, and how we both know for _a fact_ you don’t want to have - ”

“Leslie,” he lowers his voice, warning now. “That is not…at all…what that was.” 

“I basically threw myself at you.” 

Ben sits back on his heels and rubs his forehead. “Why are we talking about this?” 

“I’m sorry,” her face falls. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I know you weren’t…trying to hurt my feelings or something.” 

“I was…” oh god, now he’s flashing back to that night, her yelling at him in the middle of a street in Bloomington, the conversation in her room later, the way her petite hands had grabbed him, demanded him. The cold burn at the bottom of his spine and his shaking hold on her. The shouting. He remembered thirty seconds later shouting at her _I’m not fucking you like this!_ more angry than he’d ever felt towards her. Angry that she was offering him exactly what he wanted but in a way he could never accept.

Because he did want her. He had wanted her, with every fibre of his being. Just not like that. 

“I was just trying to help you, take care of you, all those things you probably didn’t need, but I couldn’t help it…” 

He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“You were being too nice.” 

“That was not…not…I didn’t want to…it wasn’t you. That night was messed up and…” 

“I know,” he exhales as she kisses his wrist. “That was a low blow. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that,” her hand reaches up and she slides her fingers through his again. 

“Wanna go make those brownies?” 

“Yeah,” he blinks away the stinging in his eyes and let’s her tug him. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

They watch The Princess Bride in her bed that afternoon, drinking whatever fruity cocktail she concocted that had a lot of alcohol in it. He dozes off in her lap, a quilt draped over him and her fingers carding though his hair as she snuggles into pillows. 

“Ben?”

“Hmm?” 

“My mom’s out,” it’s slurred with a tinge of playfulness. 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna have sex before she gets home?” 

He chuckles quietly into her thigh, letting the smile in her voice wash over him. 

“I’m serious.” She declares. “You still owe me one. It would make me feel better.” 

Oh god, his whole body throbs with desire. He wants to give her this, surprise her with this. He wants to pull his head out of her lap and kiss her into the pillows, peel her out of her pajama shorts and taste her skin, run his tongue over her nipples and end up between her thighs. He wants to hear her voice like it had been in his dream, husky and wanting, fingers digging into him with desperation. But more than anything he wants that look, that look she had the instant before he’d kissed her, to be in her eyes. He wants that to be his reward for being the good guy eight years ago - that look where she truly understands how much he loves her. 

But they’re drunk and sleepy and yet again, anything now won’t be enough. It's a cruel twist of fate. So, trembling slightly, he reaches behind him, clutches her hand and flashes back once again to that night at IU. She tenses and he can feel it in her touch, the way she clings to him she knows the answer before he even says it. 

Had he been more sober, he might’ve realized how telling her reaction was. 

“Not like this, Les.” 

He kisses her knuckles, her palm and whatever part of her leg he can reach and hopes she understands this time. There’s a shaky noise behind him, and as he drifts out of consciousness he’s vaguely aware of her lips pressing against his temple and wet droplets landing in his hair. 

Maybe the universe will reward him for this one.


End file.
